


crystal curtains

by hystism



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Bottom Choi Yeonjun, Chef Choi Soobin, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Dysphoria, Explicit Language, Homophobia, Infidelity, Insomnia, M/M, Melancholy, Multi, Nihilism, Objectification, Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Suicide Attempt, Top Choi Soobin, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, bratty yeonjun, crybaby soobin, sb is tall but yj wears high heels, sb teaches yj how to feel, soobin is scared and turned on, soobin sweetheart, stripper choi yeonjun, they are very much in love, they fix each other, yeonjun is emotionless, yeonjun is super egotistic, yj teaches sb how to fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystism/pseuds/hystism
Summary: yeonjun is a hooker who has been devoid of emotion his entire life.all soobin knows is misery until he meets this unusual hooker who makes all his troubles leave.he also happens to be the first ever thing to make flowers blossom in yeonjun's empty heart.[or ; two corrupted youths finally run away from all of the things this dumb fucking world has done to them— together.]
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun, Choi Soobin/Original Female Character(s), Choi Yeonjun/Original Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 127





	1. petal in the abyss

_"They're in love with this idea of love, it's a shame that they'll believe it'll come."_

✧

YEONJUN

LA is the most enrapturing heaven.

Not always the good kind, but life is the same way.

There are less of angels and much more of demons in this mesmeric utopia, the lechery devouring the purity like a lifeline.

Yeonjun is one with that concept. Hell, he _is_ that concept.

The everlasting ocean lures the dying sun with its entirety, singing to the brilliant star as it evanesces in its gentle waters, their offbeat love composing the sky the most iridescent wonder.

This distinct car is parked by the beach. Yeonjun is in the backseat of it, on the owner of it, putting in work for diamonds and jewels. The glow of the sunset bathes the two of them in warm hues, its descent as unrushed as the stripper is rushed, forever on the run. Yeonjun is always running. Yeonjun never truly gets away.

"God, you're perfect," The stranger breathes out, driven crazy with each movement the dainty male makes, his desperate grip on Yeonjun's curved hips tightening as the seconds pass. Mesmerized, like everybody that crosses paths with the dancer.

Yeonjun knows he's perfect. And a god of some sort.

He simply keeps going, feeling so high with each drill of the guy's dick into him, selfishly loving that he's in complete control of everything in his life. And this is _immensely_ gratifying; What is better than becoming more and more wealthy each day because you're beautiful?

He carries on with fucking the young man, unforgiving and skilled in the art of pleasing, and he knows all too well when the other is reaching his climax—if it could even be called so, as this entire session has had him _gone_ from the start—with the way emerald gems go hooded over, his cock pulsating inside of the pretty performer.

The pink haired boy just hums distantly, looking out the very back window before him where he bounces in the seated dude's lap with vigor, seeing the sinning city washed over in glorious light. Trees sway and dance in the breeze, and the sea is ever so enticing and _alive_ — He feels more immersed in these things than he does himself. He doesn't even know who he is.

He wishes he could live. But that's stupid, that doesn't make sense.

He's alive. _He doesn't feel a thing_. He's here. _He's somewhere else_.

There's the sound of the guy's gentle voice breaking. He moans weakly as he cums, bucking up into Yeonjun's ass with a need and want seen much too many times as the dancer only rides him harder, ready to get the hell out of here.

The only things he hears now are this stranger's blissful breaths, loud waves crashing outside, some really pretty music playing somewhere nearby.

Yeonjun holds onto the boy's shoulders tight as he cums, a soft sound falling from his lips and that's all he gives, pulling off of his user for the evening.

He adjusts his sparkly top and fixes his short skirt of silk, pulling on his lavender lace underneath and carelessly climbing to the front of the car in 6-inch heels that make him way too tall, pulling down the mirror and fixing his makeup.

Whilst reapplying peachy lipbalm and touching up his eyeliner, Yeonjun clicks his tongue. "I don't hear any movements."

"Huh?"

"The cash, dumb fucker."

"Oh. Oh, right, yeah... Sorry..." The guy struggles to assemble himself from the daze, and the music of shuffling paper accompanied by hushed counting soon sounds through the fancy ride, making pride rush through Yeonjun's veins, his complacent self becoming most triumphant. "Here you go, sir."

Yeonjun takes the thick bundle of money, skimming through it quickly and opening the door. A sudden hand on his own asks him to wait.

The guy grins sheepishly, probably realizing how stupid that was, and retracts his hand. "This was nice..."

Yeonjun can see the awe and benevolence crystal clear in the random boy's gorgeous features, already beginning to swirl into merely a smudged piece of colorful artwork to him. How pathetic.

The stripper leaves the stranger's vehicle.

✧

Many things about driving are indefinite—no matter how many rules they put on that shit—and fast car rides have always been Yeonjun's favorite.

It is the one thing that really makes him feel like he's free, like he will be okay. It tells him that there are places to go, and that maybe some day, he won't be trapped here anymore. He wishes that something in him snaps one day and he takes himself far away from this war zone.

LA was supposed to liberate him. It only enhanced all the bad. And the bad won, like it always does. He can't place where he went wrong. And he knows it's not just this city, but what he's done to himself in it.

Yet, he drives.

Lovely is the breeze on his bare honey skin, the thrum of the engine spreading throughout his body as his ring-adorned fingers drum against the wheel. Sometimes the prospect of almost crashing, even just skidding off sideways.

Anything alarming, as long as it's in a manner which makes his heart race dangerously fast with adrenaline— just to _feel something_. It's thrilling. And dumb. But Yeonjun is one for thrilling, dumb ideas.

Yeonjun likes being close to the brink of death, never quite reaching it. He doesn't believe he's ready to die just yet. Too much of nothing to live for awaits the young entity.

That's what he indulges now as he blindly travels across streets in his ferrari with floods of restless people roaming the night. He knows where he's going though, where he must go. It's an endless movie of him crawling back to that void, the closest epitome of hell. He's taught himself to believe it's the only home he's ever known, and in a way, that's true. Other than the luxuriant place he shares with his best friend, of course. But even with that, he's hardly ever there.

He drives and speeds and soars, zooming past a red light and of course, almost getting into an accident this time, but he only feels untouchable as he ditches the scene, a faint grin on his face.

After racing around the city till his flickering heartbeat has graced all of his limbs with a familiar buzz, Yeonjun hops out, strutting in like he owns the place, because he pretty much fucking does. The brightest burning star of the notorious Luscious Veil— it's Yeonjun. Nothing is anything until _him_.

He gets into the strip club, the air familiar and intoxicating around him. The formula of it all is ecstatic yet smooth in the way it works.

Not even 10 seconds later, Yeonjun senses someone running his way before they jump up and onto his back, tan legs wrapping around his waist. It isn't as much of a surprise as she thinks it is, but he lets her be.

"There's my little peach!" Celeste shouts, overflowing with energy. She is never dull. A kiss is pressed onto his cheek, one sure to leave a dark lipstick stain. "How are you, Petal?"

Despite knowing his name since childhood, his best friend has made it a thing to always refer to him as his stage name, and he quite likes it.

Petal. He had chosen it himself— _named_ himself that. It's his personal mark, his title. Still, with every instance he's referred to as such, it becomes more and more the real him.

"Today was short. I hate nighttime."

"I know, sweetie." The older girl hops off of him, walking around in 6-inch heels as well, silver and dazzling, to look up at him. Yeonjun finds he likes it better when they're standing at their actual heights. Not like this, not as dolls. As human beings. When they're real and not plastic. "Where did you go for so long?"

"Driving." Yeonjun answers.

"Hm. Did you get into trouble?"

"Maybe." He plays, earning a pinch on the cheek.

Celeste runs a manicured hand through Yeonjun's long hair, sweetly coaxing him to relax. "You have no idea how many people asked about you after today's stage. You're such a pretty boy."

Yeonjun nods. "I have an idea."

Celeste rolls her eyes at that, grabbing the younger boy's hand to tug him along with her, most likely to their dressing room. "Was it the green-eyed one you went with?"

"I don't really remember," Yeonjun laughs at his own ignorance, not having watched the guy's features properly enough to process them. Yet, he has a faint recollection of green to offer her. "I believe so. Why?"

"He was so goddamn hot. Like, no joke."

"That is true. He was a li'l bitch though. Shy but noisy," Yeonjun enlightens the woman as they approach the room. "Seemed 'bout to cry."

"Attractive _and_ whiny," Celeste pouts. "I could handle him." She snickers, opening the door and swiftly gesturing for her companion to go before her, ever the classy and bewitching woman. "Boys first." She jokes, a mock of tradition. Yeonjun smiles at her.

They become surrounded by rich fuchsia lighting, the smell of alcohol and perfume potent in the heavy air. On the large bed sits two boys with a girl lying down before them, all three of them wearing dramatic, glittery eye-makeup with skin on display, cutting ivory.

The two boys are these dancers who come as a pair that Yeonjun is very close with, but the girl must be someone new Celeste has been playing around with because she looks fresh, and she's also in _here_.

They never really let just anybody in their private space, save for these two dudes, of course: cutest little things named Beomgyu and Kai. Or, Bambi and Fairy, as they're known. They're painfully gorgeous and easygoing, albeit annoying as fuck.

They giggle with each other on the disarranged sheets like two children getting drunk and drugged up. Right, that's what they are.

They're probably finished for the night. From the stage, that is. Most of them don't just stop there, like Yeonjun. Further work leads to _better_ — more material happiness, joy that is bought.

The pole-dancing and the stripping— those are appetizers, as delicious as they are. The opening act, if you will, to compelling viewers to come undone, break apart slowly as lust and madness shine through the cracks in their faux decency. The show is _never_ over.

And then comes sex, the _true_ oxygen that keeps people going. It does Yeonjun and other lost souls _so_ , so well. To feed filthily hungry mouths in return for what makes the world go 'round.

Money.

They all want the _best_ there is. And it's smart to aim for the stars.

"This is Eva. She started just today," Celeste flashes the new chick a knowing grin consisting of pearly whites and charm, causing the girl to blush profusely as she leisurely forms white lines, obsessively making sure they're neat. "Eva, this is our Petal. Say hi, babygirl."

"Hi, Petal," Eva's cheeks blare pink as she lets her gaze fall on the male performer, and Yeonjun has her figured out already. First off shy, but she's wild inside. And bored. So bored, if she's found herself in a dark hole like this. The worst place to end up. "It's nice to finally meet you."

She's the type desperate for _something_ , _any_ kind of danger or excitement at this point, really. She needs it or she'll fall apart for good. The lone desire for the clear-cut thrill embedded in copious amounts of sex and drugs vividly pools in broken hazel eyes. He's seen it. He _gets_ it.

"You're as pretty as everyone's been saying you are." Eva compliments him, a tender smile resting on her tulip lips.

"So are you, hun." Yeonjun greets her. "Welcome to the Lustrous Veil." It isn't much— and it definitely is not a question as to _why_ , nor a warning about this path, a promise that this isn't the life.

Because he is the deepest fallen angel in this abyss, out hard and cold, screaming without a voice and unable to move. You can't fly with torn wings, and he feels that worse than anything else. The ache to leave this place forever.

"Should've seen her out there today. 'S like she belongs here."

Yeonjun pays no mind to that, going over to the closet to pick out a new outfit, needing to empty his head before he ends up thinking.

"I'm tired." He announces, looking through different pieces, all graceful and prettily colored, as well as absolute _perfection_ to his figure. Dressing up and being pretty is the best distraction for him.

"Are you hungry? I can go get ramen." Celeste suggests as she does her dark curls up.

"I said I was tired."

"A'ight now, don't be a bitch, but you aren't going to sleep for a _while_ —"

"I don't even sleep." Yeonjun supplies, uninterested. "I'm just tired. And I don't like food."

The older girl lets out a fond little laugh at the younger's indifference, and Yeonjun smiles a bit at that. At least one of them is capable of finding cheeriness here. "'Kay. I'll make you eat when we get home though. You need to get something in your system. Don't want you dying on me any time soon."

"Whatever, man..." Yeonjun shrugs it off before pulling a shiny violet dress off a hanger, deciding it's good for tonight.

Tonight.

_Will this draining night ever be over? Do the nights even end anymore?_

"Hey, I heard about some big, hotshot business guy coming in tonight. It appears him 'n his goons are—and I quote—'looking for an exceptionally hot babe for a night of fun.' Made a request sound like a fuckin' porn ad," Beomgyu tells everyone, deep voice thick with alcohol and fatigue demanding listeners. "What is it with old CEO asswipes all beasting 'nd sweaty to go about gawking at young people waltzing around nude?"

"Now why would you put it like that..?" Hueningkai mumbles in response. His long, wavy tufts fall over his forehead and eyes as he looks down to neaten up lines as well, proceeding to snort one. It makes him grunt, breathing in sharply. "I'm starting to think I should just _eat_ the coke."

"Fuck yeah, bro. I was thinking that too. There was this one time—"

"Back to the main idea?" Celeste stares at the strippers in disbelief, her hands on her hips.

"Right, yeah. So, I was _eavesdropping_ —" Beomgyu stops to giggle drunkenly at his memory. Yeonjun looks over at him, slipping into the tight dress and searching for a matching pair of heels. "And turns out, they're planning to put this one on _Yeonjun_." He nods towards the mentioned dancer. "I think it's gross. And horrible... But aye, it's a whole lot of pay. But it's..." Beomgyu purses his lips, getting more serious now. "Okay, it's wrong. Simple as that. I don't know, I just. I can't explain it. It's a lot. It. It's a lot... It's bad."

Bad? 

But Yeonjun isn't slow. Furthest from it, actually. And his brain pieces it together.

He's the one. It's always him. Being objectified. He's the concept.

Eva looks up, interest piqued by the most irrelevant thing at that moment. "His name is Yeonjun?"

Yeonjun closes his eyes and Beomgyu audibly panics due to his slip-up in front of a new arrival. One of their most important rules, broken. Beomgyu just about screams.

The elder male lets it go however, not really caring, and he spares Eva a glance. "Yeah, it is. And it's fine, she's one of us now." Then his eyes land on Beomgyu, who's visibly relieved by the mercy, a hand on his chest as he relaxes. "What does this have to do with me exactly?" Yeonjun questions.

He already knows the answer.

"He overheard that this CEO is _happy_ to pay a huge amount to, uh..." A gulp, followed by a cough of discomfort. "To fuck you." Hueningkai sums up, eyes downcast. But when he makes eye contact with the elder, he holds an utterly revolted look. "Him 'n his guys, Yeonjun. The whole 'I'll have your finest' thing. The club recommended you, they said there's no way you'd turn such a deal down. _That's_ what's happening... I can't believe this shit."

Yeonjun tries to process this news. It doesn't work.

He meets his best friend's gaze, and the woman has an angered frown as she shakes her head, looking off to the side.

The atmosphere falls under a gloomy state, reaching everyone in there, vile and unnerving.

Yeonjun isn't sure how to feel about something like this. Being a body, sold off. The mere fact that people think of him as some sort of trophy makes his limbs feel like jelly and his mind go ditzy. It's weird to the young boy. He's never felt anything so overwhelming before.

He blurts out what he thinks is right. "That's a good thing... Is it not?"

"Well, the most important thing is... Are you comfortable with it?"

This certain question is something that makes Yeonjun wholly blank out. He has never acknowledged what things do to him. _Is_ he comfortable?

He's never comfortable. Ever. His forbearance is all a pretty mask over his hideous terrors.

His face is as still as ever, portraying nothing of depth, but his mind whirls somewhere deep, a glitchy dimension it hasn't gone to before. Or, ever since he was a kid.

He is unsteady as he fixes his dress, pulling at the taut material to drape him better, to protect him. "Of course."

Celeste looks at him plainly, eyes falling to his dress. He swallows his spit, heat beginning to sizzle hot up his neck and in his cheeks as his knees weaken further. It feels bizarre. Unreal. All of this does. "Is that so?"

Yeonjun blinks rapidly, something deep inside of his chest twisting darkly. "It is. I'll take it. I would never reject something like that, you know me. Whoever wants me can have me."

He doesn't miss the unabating gazes from his Celeste and the others, all of their smiley faces now grim and disturbed, even more so by his response. "Okay, honey. Let me know if you change your mind."

The boy shakes his head, putting on a show. He breathes fast, shallow and not reaching his lungs. His dress on his body now feels like a leash around his neck. "I won't."

"But they're exploiting you... They're treating you like you're a _prize_." Celeste tries hard to get across to him, but he can't take in anything. He knows all of it already, but he doesn't want it. "It's sick and twisted of anybody. You should never let anyone do stuff like that to you for any reas—"

"This isn't anything I'm not familiar with. It's fine. I'm good." Yeonjun babbles out— And he knows he needs to get the fuck out of here. He needs to _go_ , he needs to _leave_ , he needs to _vanish_. _Now_. He begins shaking helplessly, his bones feeling so frail. "I'm okay with it. I-It's why I'm here..."

"No, it's not."

It's worse than putting him on display. They're gifting him to people. He's always on a pedestal for speculators to claw at. And now they reach him. Yeonjun doesn't like the idea of being anybody's. That's what this thing is.

Is that what he is? An object? Yeonjun is an object. He feels sick.

He doesn't know what it is: The substances that drift through the space. The petrified looks plastered onto his friends' faces. The fact that... this is real.

_This is real._

Why is he even fazed? Is it because he's a person? Is he meant to care?

It's too much. This is all fucking wrong. The world is so wrong for this. He can't take it, he can't anymore.

Yeonjun walks out.

"Baby, wait— Come back, _please! Ay, dios mío!!! Shit!!!_ I promise everything will be okay! I won't let—"

Yeonjun rushes away, not hearing anything, sounds lost behind him. And he doesn't know what's going on, or where on earth he is, until he sees the lights dim. He's so fucked.

Everything is warped. It's all colors and shapes and shit, like when you shut your eyes and the insides of your lids show you a fuckton of abstract designs.

He can't comprehend anything. Yeonjun is uneasy, sweating and full-on trembling. He hears them present him— _Petal_ —praising him and flaunting his worth, how he's their most precious and most _expensive_. The prettiest.

Yeonjun feels drained of oxygen and blood itself as he steps up onto that cursed stage. How is it that he's sober? Oh, that's it. He _is_ sober, and that's the fucking problem. He needs _drugs_ to feel okay right now. The thought of that disgusts him.

This is by far the most disgraceful experience he's had here, where he feels high because he's sober— the same way he becomes sober once he's high. But he doesn't want to live like that. He needs drugs, he needs _something_.

But he isn't faded. The colors and the shapes are what he really sees, unable to grasp the correct depiction of anything, not exactly wanting to either. He's blinded, even as red lights illuminate his stage.

The eternally sinning angel. Yeonjun was just never an angel to begin with. He was never anything, and he will never be anything.

A menacingly captivating melody begins to play, so slow and deep it haunts him, and Yeonjun already knows what to do when the beat kicks in, his body carrying him because his mind can't— it never fucking can. Muscle memory is Yeonjun's true lover, as his brain is lucidly a myth in a tainted life like this.

He wraps himself around the pole like a snake, pulling his dress up a bit to showcase flawless skin as he lowers himself, head tilted back a little as he opens his long legs, violet heels gleaming with each twist and turn of the dancer.

Shouts and whistling erupt from the audience, some women, most men, making Yeonjun's heart beat wildly, and he feels he's soon to collapse and dissipate into thin air.

The dress encapsulates the crowd-pleaser's lithe shape as if sewn to his skin, accentuating everything of his. Every muscle, every subtle curve, leaving watchers enough glory to fantasize about as they stare at him. They all stare at him.

Yeonjun's lurid eyes are hazy as he looks out towards the audience, seeing crisp dollar bills dispersed all over the floor beneath him, seeing what must be the man they're looking to sell him out to tonight. The thirsty, feral CEO that Yeonjun is looking _forward_ to selling himself out to tonight, because that's the idea.

It's insane, what money does to Yeonjun and his nonexistent conscience.

Whenever Yeonjun sees his own reflection, he sees a whore with no self-respect. He wonders if that's what others see too. People think of him as a horrid slut, of course. He doesn't care. In fact, it _drives_ him. But he wonders if those who fuck him, as well as those who wish to fuck him, see a lonely, hopeless bitch who has to give their body away because there's nothing else they're good for. There's nothing for him in this world.

Yeonjun finds himself off of the floor, body moving like water and flowing above the stage, as he flirts with the pole. Yeonjun loses himself in the song, no revealing tonight, just teasing. He is an enigma.

But there is an overpowering vortex that spins in his core, reminding him that his body remaining hidden and unseen will not last for much longer. His body is not his own. Everybody wants him. And he wants their money.

This is what Yeonjun was meant for.

✧

Yeonjun has never felt so dead until tonight, sitting all pretty and pristine in the stranger's sleek black ride, about to give himself up once more.

Once more.

He has done this millions and _millions_ of times before. Yet, tonight is different. Tonight it gets to him. Nothing has ever gotten to him this way. Not since his younger years. Tonight makes him see flashes of what life was like before he took this road, where he thought gold and rainbows awaited his dark mind and his lust for money. Life was miserable then, and even when it got better after he left, it didn't. He never got to find himself.

What is happening to him? He doesn't understand, he isn't familiar with the complex structures of _thinking_. And thinking is all he can hang onto now, his mind a distant obstacle yet so stifling in his face.

And so, Yeonjun forces those ruminations to disperse, like the fizz of soda, nothing left for him to hold onto. Whatever traces of faith there were in his head, he kills it. And he plays the little doll once more.

Once more.

This will all be worth it in the end.

✧

Yeonjun walks home for his last hours with Celeste.

He should have known this would happen, at some point. 21 years in this rotting world. A sweet little baby that has been through sickening, unearthly things, ever since he may be able to recall. His entire "childhood" wiped out by things that were done to _him_ , none of it his fault. It's everybody else, it's this world. It's thrashed him to pieces, and he was ruined a long time ago.

Of course, suicide had crossed his mind at times before, but he had only acknowledged that it would be there for him when natural causes weren't. And now, finally, he's considered it.

Death. The end of life is simple and ever so raw. Why did he ever put up with the trouble of the whole journey?

This is Yeonjun's way out. It's the brightest path he has ever seen. The true light that's at the end of the tunnel. That saying finally rings true, after all.

"Oh, precious..." Celeste doesn't wait to embrace him once he's home and he just lets her hold him, basking in it. Then he realizes he should enjoy what he has while he has it, and reciprocates the act. She looks up at the younger with stricken, watery eyes. Yeonjun wonders how others could feel more empathy for him than he does for anything at all. "You weren't supposed to do that... I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry. If only I could go back and change all our decisions to come here a-and do these disgusting, horrible things..."

"I was glad to run away with you, Cel. That was all I ever wanted." Yeonjun mumbles, eyes stinging from being awake so long, too long. His dark makeup and bubblegum hair are disheveled and ravaged, he knows he's a mess.

"I know that, babyboy. But _nothing_ is worth giving yourself up this way for. You know I wouldn't steer you unless it was _truly_ bad. And this is it... Don't do that to yourself ever again, please... You mean so much to me."

Yeonjun nods. His face is unwound and at peace, tranquilized by his thoughts of finality. He feels out of his element. "I won't. I'm feeling really good. I think I finally know my place in this world."

"Whatchu mean by that..? Why are you acting weird..?" Celeste's brows furrow, a scowl forming against her dreamy features. "All 'Bird Box' 'n shit, like you've seen the ' _beauty of life_ ' or something?"

Yeonjun wishes the elder weren't so attentive, but she's always been super observant, when it comes to him especially, seeing right through things like glass. She takes care of him with no regrets, always has. "I got what I needed. It's done."

"You're being really vague," She states, releasing him and stepping back. Celeste tilts her head, now fixated on something. "What the fuck is that on your neck? Are those _teeth_ marks???"

Yeonjun says nothing.

Despite being frustrated, Celeste is gentle with the younger as she examines the harmed skin. He's pallor, and dirty. There are unrelenting, dark hickeys across the expanse of his chest, marks which he had bought a track jacket right afterwards to shield away from view. But Celeste sees everything now. Yeonjun doesn't even know how to feel about any of it.

She checks his thighs, somewhat obscured by the same violet dress from earlier, his flesh red and blue. His expression is empty when she looks him in the face. "Yeonjun... Why?"

She hasn't said his real name in ages. He realizes he likes it _so_ much more than Petal.

 _Yeonjun_. The _real_ him.

"None of it is my fault."

"That's the thing— I _know_ it's not, it's never you." She says to him, most sincere, and so awfully hurt by her childhood best friend's state. "But _why?_ Why do you let yourself fall into this... this thing? Why don't you just... hold yourself back?"

It's clear that she doesn't know how to word it, but he understands what she's trying to get out. _Why does he let the world do this to him?_ "I... don't know. I... hate my life."

He wants to lash out in spite of his inability to express himself, but he can't even do that. He never learned how to do anything, or what emotions meant and felt like. He wants to be so mad.

Celeste cups Yeonjun's cheeks, already bursting into sobs as she rests her forehead against his collarbone. "I would rip... _all_ of them apart for you. _Everybody_ who has done a _thing_ to you. I don't want to see you be hurt any more..."

He can't do this. "I-I can't... I don't know. I-I don't... know anything, I don't—" He feels like a malfunctioning machine, finally taken over by the lethal concoction of _questions_ and _memories_ and _wishes_ he's built up inside of himself over the course of his dreadful little life.

He has to make sure it ends tonight. It has to. He can do this for himself. He would be gone forever. It will all be over.

"Celeste," Yeonjun says at last, holding her tear-soaked face and making her look up at his soulless one. "Forgive me for this. But I'll finally be at peace."

This puzzles Celeste, because Yeonjun never says things like that, and she splutters— immediately being sent into a frenzy of worry. "What the hell does that mean?! Do you want me to knock you the fuck out?!"

Yeonjun knows it's wrong, leaving her like this.

But he ignores the thrashing and yelling, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, holding her close to him for the last time. "Just forget me. I never even existed."

"What the _fuck_ , dude, you're scaring the shit out of me!" Celeste yanks herself away from the young boy, shoving him in the chest angrily. He isn't even affected. "I'm not letting you do anything stupid, asshole, so don't even _go_ there."

This night was supposed to be serene. Yeonjun would have left in the morning to go and do what needed to be done, and everything would have been fine.

But he sees that it has to be done _now_.

This isn't right, and he doesn't know what he's doing. But what Yeonjun _does_ know, is that he will make _sure_ he doesn't have to go through anything anymore. He will never be hurt, ever again.

Nobody will look at him, touch him, use him. Yeonjun will be fucking free, and he will love it.

"I have to go." Yeonjun unlocks the door before Celeste can do something crazy, like really knock him out or maybe break his knees, which, in her perspective, would be far better than losing him. Yes, she'd rather have him in pieces than not at all.

"You little _bitch_ — Yeonjun! Oh, my god—"

Yeonjun was always a good runner, but he doesn't think he's ever run faster in his life. Celeste chases and chases him with a passion until he succeeds in losing her, finally going free... Away from the one and only formation of love anybody has ever shown him. It wasn't enough.

Yeonjun sees her in his head, his favorite person.

He sees what life could bloom into if he stays just a little longer.

And all it is soon, is glittery residue, as he finds himself at that one train station.


	2. kid toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOME violence for this one ! enjoy their collision ^3^

✧

SOOBIN

Usually, Soobin is a lot more careful about his safety and wellbeing, but right now he needs some alone time. Away from his loved ones, that's all. 

And walking around the city at 3:30 AM provides him with just that. 

It's ironic, how that works. Not being surrounded by the people closest to you makes all the pressure leave. 

Life is funny and never fails to amuse Soobin. 

Using your head is crucial, and Soobin used to be sure he was the best at that. But if he  _ really _ was using his head, he wouldn't have made that move. That  one move that defined everything he did from then on, for the rest of his life. At just 20. Maybe then, going home would be bearable. 

The fresh air does little to clear Soobin's head, but it's better than staying amidst the actual issue itself. There are purple bags deepening under his eyes, and he wants to kick himself knowing skin care won't reverse that damage fast enough. 

Soobin's pocket begins to buzz—someone who "cares" trying his phone—and he can practically  feel the desperation of the caller through the incessant vibrations. With a deep sigh, he picks up. 

"I'm fine." 

_ "Bin, I know you're not in a good place right now..."  _

"I'm near a train station, dumbass, how is that bad?" 

_" That's not what I mea— You're  where? Soobin, oh my fu—" _

"Calm down, I'm not doing anything stupid." Soobin rolls his eyes. "But Taehyun... I can't be there right now... I'll literally bawl my eyes out if I have to hear any more of it." 

_ "Look, I get it. I do. But it was a misunderstanding. You know that."  _

A frown corrodes the boy's gentle features. Was his best friend always this dense? He's been turning a blind eye to many things lately, even the most serious ones, which hurts. A lot. "One of too many! How much longer do you think I can put up with this?!" 

_ "You're the one who decided this!"  _

That makes Soobin feel like dropping to his knees.  _ He _ did this. Commitments. Knots. All these suffocating boundaries, and he set them himself. Soobin is  _ so _ done for. 

Soobin is now officially tied down for good, and it is all his fault... He feels robbed of his own youth, and he has nobody to blame for it but himself. 

"...What if I've made the wrong choice, Tae?" 

_ "Don't say that, bro. It'll pass, like always. Just give it time. _ _"_ A small pause. He knows Taehyun doesn't truly care. Not anymore. _"_ _Look, cool down if you think you need to, 'nd come back after. Don't let something this small ruin your relationship. She loves you."  _

"You—" Soobin wants to scold Taehyun for being so absentminded, and such a terrible friend. What happened to the sunlit soul of the boy he used to know? His hand forms a fist, and a repressed sound of anger stays deep in his throat. He lets it go. "Fine. Fine." 

_ "Good. You got this. I believe in you."  _

Soobin shakes his head before cutting the call, staring out before him. He's reached the train station. Completely empty on this side of the city, like everyone's content with where they are, not looking to go anywhere. Soobin wishes he could say the same at this time. 

Not that he's unsatisfied. He loves it here. He has the restaurant, and he has his fiancé along with Taehyun. Soobin is, in a way,  _content. _

But he's not happy. Always feels like something's missing, but it's not like he'll ever know what, so he just stays put. 

It's becoming unbearable, the constant ache in his head for  _change_ _._ But supposedly, he has everything he needs to feel okay. 

He also has his doubts and depression to keep him warm and safe, which is always really nice and reassuring. 

The young boy hasn't been sleeping well like he used to be. He tosses and turns at night, missing the times where the dark used to be relaxing and not dragging him into that dark hole of regret he's dug on his own. He did this to himself. 

He asked her to marry him. 

He wanted her, anyways. Or told himself that he did, because he should have. He isn't sure about anything anymore. 

Wouldn't it be neat if we could just go back to the time where the only thing we had to worry about was whether to play with legos or cars? And now, we're never ready for the real world. 

Soobin leans against a post, arms crossed as he taps a white sneaker against the ground. He isn't waiting for anything in particular, of course. 

Somehow, he sees something in his peripherals that demands attention, all glowy and glimmering, and he turns his head to look far down the other side of the train station. 

There's a person with pink hair too vibrant to go unnoticed, and they fidget in a fitting, sparkly violet dress— barefoot. They look out of breath, and lost, but not like they're looking for somewhere to go. 

Now, Soobin shouldn't be intrigued by some completely random stranger, and it isn't like he would be able to do anything about his interest anyways. Much too apprehensive and shy, he feels stupid, unable to go and ask them if they're alright. 

So he watches from a distance like the dumbstruck child he is. 

He can't identify their gender, but such things don't matter anyway— Gender is not a thing you just assume and, really, it doesn't exist; it's this idea people let themselves blindly follow. 

The shimmery person starts chaotically putting on the heels they have slinging from delicate fingertips.

Soobin's jaw drops when he sees them give one dismissive once-over to their phone screen, proceeding to assail the phone towards the train tracks, smashing it. What the hell. 

They pull at their hair, looking  _ so _ horribly in distress, and Soobin just can't take it anymore because he sees something's wrong. 

So he lets curiosity take the wheel. He was never actually driving anyway. 

Walking over to them, fast but as casual as he can manage, Soobin nears the stranger. 

The person senses his presence way before he even gets there, snapping their head towards him with scarily enlarged eyes, looking animated and fucking  _startling_ _._ But Soobin tries to calm his nerves in hopes of behaving decently. 

He takes a few steps more, deciding that's enough. He swallows dryly at the person breathing harshly at him now. He made the move, he can't back out now. "Hi... I saw you from over there. Are you alright?" 

The stranger tongues at their fangs, and Soobin tells himself this is the part where he should really run away before he gets murdered at this train station with nobody around but birds. 

The person is strangely beautiful, and Soobin almost feels sick in the head for noticing that, because they're clearly  _ unhinged _ and are very ready to  _ eat  him alive _ if he so much as twitches. 

And they grin. Something sharp and potentially appealing had their eyes been holding anything in them, but they aren't, they're just dim and empty. "Hi... Do you have a death wish?" 

Soobin's eyes widen in alarm and he blinks rapidly. "N-No..." 

"Then get lost. Stick around if you want a show..." They turn away. "I don't think you do." 

Soobin doesn't know what that means, and he guesses he probably isn't supposed to. 

They're giving him a chance to get away. But is Soobin smart? Does Soobin know what's best for him? No. 

"If you need help—" 

"If I  need help??? " Worst thing to say. The worst. Their head whips back around to him, and Soobin begins to back away, sweating. They crack their knuckles, heels clicking as they walk towards him, menacing and precise. "I will fuck you up." 

"Please don't do that," Soobin squeaks. 

"Why? You got something to live for?" 

"No..." Wrong answer. Soobin nearly slaps himself. 

He doesn't realize that he's stopped walking. The person is right before him now, facing him, and Soobin realizes they meet his height with the heels. They're serious now, eyes low as they scan his face. Soobin trembles, unmoving in his place. 

"Please leave me alone." 

Oh. 

"Oh, a-alright... I'm sorry. I'm just concerned—" 

"Tell me why." They say softly. 

Soobin looks into their eyes, black around the edges from smudged makeup, and he doesn't dare look at their lips. He might actually get killed for that one. "Because you're a person." 

"...I am?" 

"You are... And you matter." 

This is the first thing that seems to get to the stranger, in the way their sharp brows furrow curiously along with a light tilt of their head. 

Soobin still feels like pissing himself. 

"I matter?" They ask. Their eyes show something now, but he doesn't know what it is. Sarcasm? A threat? ...Hope? 

Soobin nods, praying the movement isn't as stiff-looking as it feels. He means it though. They  are a person and they  do matter. "Of course you do." 

Their eyes fall to the ground, and he expects tears or something of the sort to be in them when they look up again, but the person just smiles. It's the saddest thing he's ever seen. 

Soobin feels himself mentally reaching out when they step away from him. 

"That's... nice. Really. Thank you. I think." They look out towards the train tracks, and Soobin feels like this person has just cast a spell on him, entirely bewitched. "But I have somewhere to go." 

"Where are you going?" Soobin rushes to get out. 

They fidget again, and Soobin doesn't react so that he doesn't make them feel off or anything. He doesn't think they're off. Well, not really, anymore. He thinks they're just fine and he wishes he could get to know them. But they're leaving. 

"I don't know this place as yet." They say, very distant. "But I will." 

Gears rust over in Soobin's brain as it tries to work its way around this glassy poetry, and find the golden hidden meaning. Still, it never gets there. The gears completely graze up against one another, coming to a stop, and he's left puzzled and unfulfilled. 

But not as much as this stranger. This beautiful little mystery of madness. This is about them. 

Soobin is on the edge at this point. "Could you tell me what you mean? Please? All I want is to understand." 

"You sound illiterate." 

"I..." 

"You?" The sparkly mess bats their eyes. 

"Where are you going?" Soobin repeats, walking closer to them once again. The glass won't break if not pressed. "Tell me and I'll leave." 

They shake their head, certainly appalled by his obstinacy. "How stupid. Let's just go back to how we started. Me over here, you over there." 

Soobin hums, nodding. "Right. So I can walk back over and bother you again?" 

The stranger glares at him now. 

_ " Where _ _,"_ Soobin enunciates, steady and adding pressure. _"_ _ Are you going? "  _

"I'm not going anywhere!" They shout. Then the fire dies out. "I'm not." 

None of it makes sense. 

A low thrum resonates throughout the place around the two, the ground vibrating beneath them. Soobin sees a spark in the other's eyes, and before he knows it, they're on their way, standing at the edge. 

Are they insane? Why would they stand so close to— Oh. 

Lights blare before him, and Soobin is a  _ game-changer _ for this person, here to distort what he now finally understands was most likely weaved to be their last second on earth. 

His heart is beating so fast and he doesn't know what the status is, he has no idea if he's even alive anymore, until he feels the eminent throb in his elbows and knees, like he's been blasted into an entirely different universe. 

A body beneath him, breaths fast and heart palpitating, and eyes that look up at him in downright  _horror_ _._ "You..." 

"I had to! Are you  crazy?!" 

"Yes!!!" With pink hair even more wild than before, skin more pale and drained now, they make their best attempts at pushing Soobin off of them, punching and occasionally clawing him, trying to get away, but he can't let that happen right now. Not when they're trying to fucking _die_ _._ "Let me go!" 

They're weak and unhealthy right now, Soobin knows that. And he feels so terrible for it, but he holds their wrists, pinning their arms above their head to ensure they don't do anything else rash. 

It's too much. He sees the objection in their eyes but he shakes his head, rushing to talk them down. "I promise it's going to be okay, but you  _ have _ to calm down for me right now." 

What kind of person would Soobin be if he allowed someone to kill themself tonight? 

"Get off of me, get the fuck off of me—" 

"I  _ will_, fuck, I just need you to rela—" 

Soobin feels their leg rising swiftly right beside his hip, and he  _ shrieks _ as he experiences the sharpest kind of pain he's ever had to, a heel digging into the bend at the back of his knee. He rolls off of them out of reflex. 

And he's vulnerable now. They take advantage of that. They straddle Soobin's hips, and all Soobin can think is _"_ _This person is deranged_ _,"_ and _"_ _But I have to make sure they're okay_ _,"_ and _"_ _Oh, my goodness... I just saved their life." _

It's a miracle that this happened at the time it did, in the dark morning, with nothing around but the train that is now gone with the wind. It's just them, their decencies, and their indecencies. 

Soobin doesn't want to hurt them and he isn't going to. Even if he has to defend himself, he won't. 

He may be stupid.

He breathes in sharply once their hand squeezes at his throat, and not one more thought is able to fly in before their fist is colliding with his face. 

They strangle and beat Soobin to a pulp for what feels like forever, and what is probably really a minute in reality. He lets them take their anger out on him, as they _really_ need that. And he's happy to help them, in this really odd way he would've never guessed he'd allow some day. 

Soobin is beyond amazed when all of it comes to an end, the weight leaving his lap, and he assumes the person drops. 

His eyes flutter open, cuts in the soft skin of his face stinging with each split second, and he looks over at the stranger lying faint across the floor. He's sure they're soon to rise up from the dead and stomp their heels into his face to finish him off to fatality or whatever, but he doesn't care. He's just elated that they're  _alive. _

He sees bruised, cut hands bracing themselves onto the floor to push the person to sit upwards, eyes and mouth red and raw. 

Now being rooted like this enough to gouge details, he vividly sees now the dark, brutal marks littering their skin. He doesn't know what to make of that, because he doesn't know them. 

Soobin turns to the side and spits out blood. Good thing they clean train stations now because this one is screwed. 

The person next to him is breathing dangerously hard as they stare at him, seething with gritted teeth. "Fuck you." They spit. "You've ruined everything!" 

What? 

"I just saved your life! You should be _grateful!_ " 

"Ridiculous," They scoff, holding their head in their hands and then laughing maniacally. Soobin should be frightened, but he doesn't feel the urge to run now. "How did you save me if I  _ wanted _ to go?!" 

That one takes a moment for him. He realizes he did worsen things for them. But that isn't going to make him give in now. He will stand his ground. 

Soobin gets up from the floor. He has to sit back down. 

That makes the person genuinely laugh, eyes turning to crescents for the first time. Too distracting. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't gonna stand there 'n let you do that. What is _wrong_ with you?" 

Their lips abruptly turn down into a disgusted grimace. "I told you that you wouldn't want a show. You didn't listen." 

Soobin gives them a worried look. Are they really that in a rush to be gone? "H-How could you—" 

"No more questions." The person lies back against the floor, eyes closed and arms spread out like wings. They're tired. "You did what you had to. You can go back to your life now." 

The young boy thinks about it. _Go back to his life?_ To his fiancé that solely poses as a reminder that he's idiotic and worthless? To Taehyun who can't see past his damn phone and sunken laziness? 

Where's the lifein that? 

"May I know what happened to your skin?" 

They meet eyes from where the strawberry person lies out on the cold ground and Soobin stays sat up. "It's what I get for being a prostitute." 

"...Just because you're a prostitute, doesn't mean you deserve it." 

"Doesn't it? You sell yourself, so you're bought and owned? Even if for one night. Aren't I a toy?" 

"I don't believe so. But what do I know?" 

The stranger smirks, propping up on an elbow now. "You're kind of cool. What's your name?" 

_ Are we casually conversing now? _ Soobin thinks.  _ Why do they have that look? Are they still going to thrash me? _

"Soobin." He watches as they put their bubblegum hair up in a bun. It's pretty. 

"Hello, Soobin. I'm Yeonjun. Yes, I'm a male." 

Well,  _ there's _ something. "Oh. Good to know. I didn't assume anything anyways." 

"You did good, kid. Even if I didn't want it." 

"Oh... Well, I don't regret it." 

Then, Soobin suddenly wheezes in pain as Yeonjun studies him with a sort of amusement. "Is it that bad?" 

Soobin nods, doubling over as he spits out more blood, coughing uncontrollably. It's excruciating. 

Is it really that bad? Did he just take a beating for being good?

But Yeonjun takes it easy, rising on his heels and pulling the boy up with him effortlessly, and with such composure that onlookers would assume the larger were the insane one. "I, uh, can take care of it. I have a car. It isn't far, but I have some work to do." Yeonjun tells him. "My life just took a big turn, Soobin, so bear with me." 

A mangled Soobin has no objections to that whatsoever, as he's hauled out of the train station by a mad, detached dude in a hot glittery outfit. It sounds like a seasoned lie, something out of a dream.

It's the most adventure he's had since he was a kid, and he will more than happily be taking it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story has gotten a lot of praise so far and it means so much to me , im amazed that ppl genuinely like my brain magic, so tysm. i got chronic issues so im trying my best to update ^-^ i will be making various changes to this fic as it goes


	3. god is a monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shy guy kinda cute ngl
> 
> \+ yj makes my milf cry

✧

YEONJUN

This is real. 

Or, just a really stupid dream. Of you failing suicide—how the fuck?—and stumbling into some wimp on the way to the next level. You never reached it. 

Not that Yeonjun finds it as likely as being born again, or some endless void of darkness at the least... but if all of that 'deserved afterlife' shit is true to itself, Yeonjun would go to heaven. He'd make it happen. Who the fuck is going to stop him? GOD? 

No, Soobin is. 

Soobin did  _not_ save him. He was  _not_ some washed-up angel, and he most definitely was  _not_ called for. 

Yeonjun is more than ready to make that man's life a living hell for his act of bravery, and he might just end up carving his own path there in the process. Because Yeonjun has never been  _bad._ Just a little...  _'screws loose.'_

Fuck that— Yeonjun is walking terror. And damn, it's fun. And it will be, now that he finally has himself a nice little target, as fresh as morning dew. Practically a lotus of a human. 

Who cares where we end up? Earth is a bloodbath for a planet; You won't  _find_ worse, friend. 

Yeonjun's mother always called him 'monster' and he's going to live up to his title. He will take her dirty slurs and screech it clean for his own good, because that's  _his_ power. This is his world. 

Maybe that's what this second chance is for. Maybe he can shake the earth and make it his own heaven, where hell used to once take place. 

✧

Breaking into your own house is a thing. 

Yeah, he's going in barefoot. He realizes he should have borrowed Soobin's sneakers or something. 

He has him sitting outside where—if he's lucky—he won't be attacked or caught by anything or anyone. 

Not that Yeonjun owes him that graciousness; Soobin literally ruined his death! Yeonjun wouldn't mind if somebody found him and— Anyways. The mission. 

Yeonjun should have thought that Celeste was holding onto his keys for him, when he left to go have his insides rearranged by a gang of rich old fucks for what feels like a penny now. 

He hadn't remembered a thing, and now he's in deep shit. 

He has cash on him— lots and lots and lots of it. But he has even _more_ in their place, because that's just how they rolled. And now he's actually on the low, adventuring into his own goddamn place earned with ages of offering himself up.

_Wow, I was just a kid. Well, not really._

Yeonjun would be grateful towards his parents for birthing him pretty, but he knows that's all him. 

What he needs is his car keys, along with money. And he doesn't think he'll be needing his belongings now, because this isn't the time for packing. And besides, he doesn't value any of it. 

Oh, and he's dead. Or missing, at the least. 

There's the prior knowledge of Celeste always keeping one single window unlocked; in favor of them always being busy and heedless, memories warped by work. 

It serves Yeonjun well tonight, and he's in the house with no effort. Who cares if he just busted his ass and almost snapped his leg? Not him! 

It's odd, since they usually lock the secret way in when they're home... Did she leave it open for him? 

He knows her ass is normally knocked out by now, never missing the chance to sleep, especially at this hour. 

He's just lucky if she isn't up or anything. Then he might actually have to die. Soobin's heroism would have been for nothing. 

So, once the coast is for sure clear, Yeonjun makes quick work of putting together a bag of cases of money, securing all of it, and grabs his other wallet. 

Finally, he ditches the scene with sweatpants and a t-shirt, a large black hoodie thrown over it. And  _now_ he gets sneakers. 

Then, last but not fucking least, it hits the young man that if he wants to retrieve his keys, he's going to have to go  _into_ the woman's room. 

Beautiful. Life is good. Cheesecake flavored cum. 

He feels like screaming. He laughs. 

_Fuck, how does this go down? Is this a risk to take?_

She's a heavy sleeper, sure, but anything could happen. More so, now that she must be so on-edge from everything he's putting her through. 

God, he's such an asshole. A selfish bitch. He wishes she could just forget him. 

When Yeonjun approaches Celeste's room, and he hears her voice, his heart is in his throat. But he breathes and prepares for anything. 

The door is ajar. 

He feels relief wash over him, the troubles of getting inside now done and over with. With caution, he looks inside. 

He sees her. 

Celeste is sat up on her bed, curls unkept and eyes dark with lack of rest.  _Yeonjun hates himself._ She has a hand placed on her forehead and the other holding her phone to her ear. 

"Well, keep looking. Pink, yeah. No. Yes, it's been hours... No? What the f... Uhh, what's wrong with his outfit?  _Yes,_ he's really a man! You're worried about the  _wrong_ things— He's fucking  _gone,_ I'm going insane!" 

Yeonjun shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, he sees something shining on the dresser near the door. _Holy fuck._

Celeste begins to cry, every form of pain wrapped up in her heartbroken sobs. And Yeonjun has to block them out like he does with all things good and bad. 

He takes the keys, stealing one last look at the love of his life before heading out for good. 

✧

"Did you get all you need?" 

"Yeah." 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yes." 

"Are you?" 

Yeonjun slams the car door shut once he's in, and he has half the mind to look over and observe his new companion's state. 

Soobin bleeds from the deep cut in his cheekbone, lips busted and swollen. Yeonjun wonders why all the undeserving people are the ones he's hurting. 

He is... sorry. To both of them. He doesn't know what that is. He feels it, but it's unwelcome, and not something he cares to share. "I can take you to the ER, but you'll have to go in by yourself." 

"Oh." Soobin lets out. He hugs the heavy bag Yeonjun had shoved into his chest. "Okay. Sounds good." 

"I'll drive you back wherever you need after tha—" 

"Do you need a place to stay?" 

Yeonjun blinks. "What?" 

"A place to stay..." Soobin eyes Yeonjun closely. "Aren't you homeless now?" 

Distaste for the term... 

Did he just put himself out of his own house? 

Yeonjun can't hold back a stupid laugh of disbelief, head feeling light with a bunch of nameless things. "I'll find my way. Been doing it since birth." 

_"No."_ Soobin tells him, shaking his head persistently. "I won't let you—" 

"You won't stop me either." Yeonjun frowns at him, not into debating. What he says should go, it's not that hard. 

"I—" Soobin takes a deep breath, playing with his fingers carefully with eyes wavering. "I own a restaurant. I live close to it, alright? You can stay at my home till you have things figured out. I promise you it's safe." 

Yeonjun doesn't want to stay with somebody. He's tired, worn out... empty and fucking sick, and he could just crash at a hotel because he's _too_ much to handle—

"You need to eat." Soobin decides, lighting up at this idea. "Yeah! I'll cook for you. Plus, you're carrying a lot of money and somebody could catch on and you could get—" 

Yeonjun turns to the boy beside him with an annoyed glare. "Close your mouth if you treasure those pretty teeth. I sure would." 

Soobin swallows and listens, taking his eyes off of Yeonjun to look ahead at the wide beach. Waves lapping over each other is the only sound around them at this time in the morning. "Why does it feel like we're committing a crime..?" 

Now this one makes sense. 

Yeonjun sighs heavily, his leg bouncing rhythmically. "We are... There's a search out for me now. My best friend notified the authorities about me." 

"Oh. Wow... Shit." 

"Very." Yeonjun confirms. "I'm surprised she did that... Even if she's upset... We don't do police." 

"Neither do we." 

_"'We?'"_ Yeonjun teases as he looks at Soobin, finding this new info interesting. 

Soobin nods, flicking the AC switch up and down. He has little tics, Yeonjun notices. "My best friend... And my fiancé." 

"Oh, you're bold for that, then. Inviting a hooker over, I mean." Yeonjun grins. "What will they think of that?" 

"I don't know, actually..." Soobin quietly admits. Then, his jaw clenches. "Maybe they don't get to have a say in everything I do anymore." 

Yeonjun smirks. "That's something I can work with. Now..." He puts the car into ignition, beginning to steer out of the area. "Let's go get you  _stitches._ _That's_ always fun." 

"How is that fun?" Soobin questions with doey eyes, his voice clouded with worry. 

Yeonjun smiles lightly. "It just is. You'll see." 

✧

Soobin returns from his hospital adventures with his pale blue shirt shielding his poor face, still clutching his abdomen. 

"You were not much to look at initially, so let me see." Yeonjun pries the other's wrists away with little fight, and once he has access to the finished result, his mind goes blank. He laughs crudely, unable to help it. "Fuck." 

The boy's eyes are black and purple and his lips are just slightly puffy now, jaw bandaged up with stitches running through the one bad split in his cheek. 

It looks _awful._

Yeonjun has just scarred someone so nice and innocent. Should he feel bad? He doesn't really know right now.

"Stop... I just got uglier, I know. Thanks." 

"Yeah... And you're welcome." Yeonjun winks playfully.  _You don't actually care._ "Address?" 

The black haired boy buffers, cheeks shading in the slightest, but it's much too obvious for his own good.

Yeonjun grimaces at the sight of it, not understanding. "What the fuck are you blushing about, pussy? Do you need your dick crushed this time?" 

"Oh— Oh, my goodness, _no._ I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, um..." Soobin rubs his forehead for a moment in awkwardness. "1587 Magnolia." 

It's Yeonjun's turn to pause, dirtied hands gripping the steering wheel thoughtfully. "Are you... Are you sure you're comfortable with a stranger in your place?" 

Soobin's eyebrows raise. "You've considered it?" 

"...A bit." 

"Well, in that case, I work at a restaurant. I deal with unknown people all the time." 

"Yeah, but it's... different, with me. I'm not going to be a passing customer, you know." 

"Either way," Soobin nods solemnly, trying his best to reassure him. "I deal with people really well. I can promise you that." 

"Yeah," Yeonjun gestures to his damage. "I can tell from the skin on your face that you're a real sweetheart." 

"See? I'm so sweet I let you beat me half to death." 

"Do you think you deserve a medal?" 

"Do  _you_ think I deserve one?" 

"Even if you'd fought back, I'd have won." 

Soobin sulks. "I know..." 

The pink haired male breathes in deep, the loud anxiety vibrating through him nowhere near receding. 

He hates it. So big but feeling so little. Maybe if he pretends that he's okay for a little longer... 

"Let's do this. Turn me in and I kill you." 

"I  _saved_ you,  _and_ offered you safety, why would I—" 

Yeonjun places a finger to Soobin's lips in ignorance, making a  _'shh'_ sound before turning on hard metal and washing out any more noise. 

✧

How much longer can he avoid it? 

This feeling of weakness? 

Yeonjun feels faint, barely there, as he follows Soobin's lead into the all too foreign house. 

And the other seems to catch on quickly, asking if he needs anything, but Yeonjun rushes to dismiss his offers. He doesn't need anything, he's _sure._

So Soobin just gives him some fresh clothes, doing as much as the other allows, and Yeonjun thanks him with uncertainty before going to the shower. 

When he strips himself, that's when he sees everything. He hadn't before, couldn't bring himself to look at his own body. 

Even as his eyes run over the sin put into his once clean skin, his vision goes further blurry and he can't stand there any longer. It's unbearable to face himself right now. 

He winces at the feeling of the water hitting his skin, immediately praying to his own system not to fail him, not bring him down any further. Again, he figures if he doesn't acknowledge it, it'll be less possible. 

Does that work in real life? 

And no matter how hard Yeonjun washes his skin, how clean he tries to make it, he knows he's only lying to himself and that the stains won't subside. It isn't even anybody's fault but his.

Does that make him ugly? 

He can accept that now. That he's the one making a mess of everything. It's always him... 

Getting out feels better than lingering, seeing himself in huge clothes that swallow his figure whole feels better than looking at his current condition. 

Nothing feels like home.

Yeonjun doesn't want to be honest that Soobin seems like a genuine, _good_ person. Because that can change so fast, like nothing.

That's something he isn't ready to accept.

The lights are too bright, the space is too warm, and he knows he shouldn't complain but he wants to. Has to, to feel like everything is about him. 

Yeonjun knows he should drink water, breathe, do  _something_ to keep him up— 

And thank fuck Soobin is right outside the door when he opens it, because Yeonjun simply cannot hold himself up anymore. 

And he accepts that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell who is more of a thinker between the two lmaoo


	4. heart bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> them learning about each other and looking at their lives from a different angle

✧

SOOBIN

Oh, how he wonders endlessly about this glorious man; His life up to this moment, what drove him to choose the life he did. Was he always so head-over-heart, was there nothing left to live for? 

Yeonjun is a force birthed by the universe to test everybody's patience. But Soobin's got him. He promises. 

So when Yeonjun collapses on him, fading like a dimming light after hours of dodging destruction— Soobin doesn't think twice. 

It'd be nice to tell the pink haired male that he's getting the job done effortlessly. But he'd be lying. 

He's far from smooth, taking a whole 15-second interval to get Yeonjun in a bridal position to carry him to the guest room. And even with the other man weighing that of a feather, Soobin is as tough as a twig. 

He makes a mental note to start working out properly. It never really occured to him till now. 

"I wish I could blame you," Soobin lets out as he settles Yeonjun onto the bed with ease. "But, as usual, this was my idea." 

Yeonjun needs his systems replenished, or else. 

That isn't any trouble, holding a bottle of water to the boy's lips as he drinks carefully with closed eyes. 

Yeonjun's voice is weak and rasped as he mutters, "It just  _had_ to be room temperature, didn't it?" 

"Shut up and drink it." 

He obeys, falling back against the fluffy pillows once he's done what he can. "I can't breathe." 

Soobin's eyes enlarge. "You can't  _breathe?_ Oh, my god— What do I do?" 

"Anything. I'm just. I can't..." 

"Hold on," Soobin goes and opens a window to let breeze in, covering the boy midway with a blanket. "It's probably because the house is always so warm. Is this better?" 

No response. 

Out of fear, he checks Yeonjun's pulse from his wrist, where he feels a heartbeat, and discovers the pink silhouette of half of a small, cracked heart inked into his skin. He realizes just how many little colorful tattoos the smaller male has on his arms. They're all so fascinating and  _pretty._

Soobin feels like he's just found out fairies are real. 

When it's confirmed that Yeonjun is alright, he turns to leave, and is snatched back by small fingers around his wrist. 

Yeonjun doesn't even look awake in any way, but Soobin is close enough now to hear him whisper, "Thank you." 

✧

The first thing that comes to mind when he awakens, is how he finally had an okay sleep. 

He looks at the digital clock beside his bed that displays 8:46 AM in bright green. Oddly enough, his rare, peaceful rest was only about 4-5 hours. 

Well, whose fault is that? 

Soobin looks up in time of hearing soft footsteps. And he's met with the foreign sight of Yeonjun with bare, puffy eyes and curly pink hair from his shower a few hours prior, hugging a pillow. 

"Yeonjun?" Soobin squints through the bright sunlight in his room, sitting up achingly. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

Yeonjun's expression doesn't even change in the slightest as he blinks slowly. "Yeah. I just wanted to know if... you were." 

The boy relaxes, nodding to reassure him. "Yeah, I'm alright. I hope you slept well—" 

"Kidding." Yeonjun says flatly, walking away. "I hope you had mind-crippling nightmares. I'm going back to sleep now." 

"Oh... Okay." 

Soobin finds himself smiling somehow, getting out of bed. 

The fright that runs through his body upon seeing his own face in the mirror goes beyond. He's unable to even press on it to wash it no matter how hard he tries. 

Brushing his teeth is easier, and he doesn't have it in him to do anything to his hair. He never actually does these days. Some sort of depression state again.

He ends up fixing it, as to not look like a fool. For  _some_ reason. 

When he's drying up, that's when he hears a loud, pitched scream, fully alarming him. 

Soobin exits the washroom in a rush, peering down the hall and seeing... 

"Narissa?" 

_Fuck, it's way too early for this._

He hadn't even thought of what he would say to her. Or Taehyun. Soobin is not even sure what's going on himself. 

"Babe, who is that?!" She points into the guest room with big, shocked eyes. 

Soobin grimaces painfully. "He's... my friend." 

His fiancé stares at him with unfading surprise. "Your friend..?" 

The man gulps, nodding. He walks up to the older girl with caution. 

"What are you talking about, Soobin?" She brushes long, brown strands from her face. "You don't  _have_ friends." 

Soobin ignores the slight offense he takes to that and dares to look in her eyes. "Well, I have this one... He has nowhere to stay right now. I'm just looking out for him." 

"Oh," Narissa loosens up, looking back at Yeonjun who sits up now with a ferocious face. "Well, why didn't you just say that? Even though, he looks like a Chucky doll with pink hair..." 

Soobin steals a fearful glance at Yeonjun, who awfully fits the description at the moment, praying he doesn't get pissed off by the woman's antics. 

He braces a hand awkwardly against the door frame for stability. "Let's not, um... He's, uh, gonna be... staying here with me, until he has things figured out." 

Narissa turns to face Soobin wordlessly. 

Then, unexpectedly, the woman shrugs her shoulders. "That's perfectly fine. It's not like I've moved in yet. There's nothing wrong with you having a friend over." 

The younger tries to conceal his overflow of relief, but it should be terribly obvious how he can breathe again. 

His lover squints, studying him closely, and  _oh, fuck—_ "What the  _hell_ happened to your face?" 

_Does the world spin, or is it just your brain? Can your brain spin?_

"I-I—" Soobin catches the satisfied smile against Yeonjun's lips. Soobin keeps in mind to deal with that later. But for now, "I g-got into a fight." 

"A fight? What kind of fight? Are you alright..?" Her voice is soft like velvet, deep concern written all over her pretty face. She touches the boy's face, to which he reflexively flinches. "Is it because I yelled at you? Bin, you know I never mean to—" 

"No, no, it's fine. I know." Soobin dismisses her affection and efforts of what she might think are reparations and stitches. It hurts. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine." 

She purses her cherry lips in regret, planting a kiss to his. "I hope you can forgive me." 

"I..." Soobin looks down in dejection, because— yes. He always does this. Pushes reality out of the way for the sake of sweet, fleeting bliss,  _every time—_ "Of course I do."

Narissa smiles happily, leaning up and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek before turning to leave. It burns into his skin. 

"I gotta go to work. Call me, okay? I love you." 

"Alright. I love you too." 

He watches the door shut, and then sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

He already feels exhausted. 

"Your queen awoke me." He hears a sensuous voice speak to him. He looks to Yeonjun, who now lies in bed in a 'french girl' position, pulling a pout. "But I'm still so  _tired._ Do you think you could help me with that? You know, now that she's gone?" 

Soobin rolls his eyes in aggravation, leaving the scene. 

He hears the other scoff in mock offense from afar as he enters the kitchen area. "Are you into more direct requests? 'Cause I'm really good at that, too." 

"Leave me alone." 

"I don't think so," Soobin feels a harsh slap to his broad back, shooting a glare at Yeonjun who passes him to hop up on the shelf like nothing. "You're already so alone." 

"What are you _on_ about?" 

_"You,_ sad little soul." Yeonjun smiles in contrast to his words. He swings his long legs from high up. "It's just funny to see, that's all." 

Soobin wants to just ignore him. Maybe he'll disappear for a little while. 

But, he feels the curiosity slither in at the boy's words. "What do you mean?" 

A hum. "You're a puppet and she has the strings." 

The man watches him in complete shock, and Yeonjun just smiles like he knows everything. Maybe Soobin should prove him wrong. 

But he can't. Not with this. 

Instead, he frowns defensively as he grabs a bowl and aggressively fills it brimming with hideously colorful cereal, pouring milk and spooning it into his mouth.  "What makes you think that..." 

"I've fucked hundreds of people and—" 

Soobin chokes, and the other just deadpans. "Sorry, yeah, go on—" He fucking chokes again, and Yeonjun blinks at him. 

"Okay. Anyways, I've seen your situation in many places before." Yeonjun explains, checking out his nails. "And you're naive. So, good luck with that." 

"What... are you trying to imply?" Soobin seethes at the man, who just looks down at him from his perched seat with poise in his winged eyes. "There is no  _'situation.'_ Nothing—  _Nothing_ goes on in here. You don't know what you're saying." 

And, Yeonjun shrugs thoughtlessly. "That only proves my point. I've seen it all." 

The simplicity and confidence in it is not supposed to make him as angry as it does. 

But Soobin isn't upset with Yeonjun. 

He's upset that he's right about all of it and just throwing it straight at Soobin's face without care. 

He doesn't want to see these things at all. 

But being reminded of her screaming at him last night... Taehyun not being there for him... Wanting so badly to just leave home and get lost. 

Now being told to his face how transparent it is that she... does this to him. Whatever it is. He was never able to tell. 

"Fuck you." 

"Fuck you too." Yeonjun grins at him. "And fuck the truth, right? 'Cause you're weak," He leans close to a fuming Soobin as he tongues at his fangs, wholly unfazed by the man's emotions. "And that must be really hard to face. You haven't even gotten close to that yet." 

Soobin huffs, feeling his throat close in on itself and his eyes well with tears, and he wants to break something or— 

"Let go of your self-destructive thoughts," The pink haired boy hops off the shelf, allowing Soobin's neck to relax as he looks down at him now. "And take me shopping."

What.

Soobin growls, unable to keep his feelings at bay. "Listen, you bitch—" 

"Oh, see, you won't be pulling that fuckery with me. None of that. Find some damn respect." Yeonjun watches him with seriousness that makes Soobin's blood run cold. 

He swallows nervously, heat rushing to his face in shame of what he just did. "I-I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I have no right—" 

Yeonjun giggles, his eyes crinkling. "I'm just fucking with you. Call me whatever you want, gorgeous." Then he winks at Soobin, spinning around past him. "Get dressed, I'll freshen up. I'm letting you drive my car." 

Holy shit. What the fuck?

Soobin tries to breathe properly, feeling his rage lessen. 

This perplexing, _insanely_ sexy guy is going to make him trip. 

Maybe that's what Soobin needs. Something that won't take it easy on him, but for the better. A glitch in his life. 

✧

"I feel like I'm a dilf in sweats and a milf in skirts. It's nothing to do with  _gender,_ but really the  _vibe._ I have this certain... powerful aura you won't find anywhere else. Do you get me?" 

Soobin looks over at Yeonjun in the passenger seat with an overwhelmed expression. 

"Man," Yeonjun laughs, putting his sneakers up on the dashboard. It's like he  _wants_ Soobin to get ticked off again, like he  _enjoys_ it. "I'm starting to think you're a virgin." 

"I'm not." The raven haired boy glowers. 

Yeonjun gasps, a hand over his heart. "All you let out of your mouth are lies!" 

Soobin grunts in frustration at this and steps on the gas. The speed doesn't even bother the other male.

"Hey. Are you still mad at me?" He hears. "Have I been too mean?" 

Soobin doesn't answer. 

A poke against his thigh. "Best friend?" A squeeze. "Bae?" A punch. "Sweetheart?" 

When Soobin stays put, Yeonjun lets out a "hmph" and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms. 

Good. 

Soobin looks over at him. "Put your seatbelt on." 

He should know better than to assume that works. The boy doesn't listen to him, popping his window and taking some pink bubblegum out of Soobin's belongings to pop into his mouth. 

At this point, Soobin is afraid he'll crash the car from how exuberant the hooker (formerly?) is behaving now. He realizes he should really put all his focus to the road. 

"You think someone'll recognize me?" Yeonjun questions, tilting his head at the driver who's trying his very best to remain attentive. "Pink hair is rare." Then he gasps, and Soobin can even picture the light in his eyes. "I'll change my hair color." 

"You do that." 

"What color should I go? I'm thinking black. Black hair is always the sexiest." 

"Uh-huh." 

"I remember when I went blonde. Makes people crazy. I got my ass  _destroyed_ within those few good months." 

Soobin nearly crashes the fucking car. He tries to breathe away the panic of almost colliding with another vehicle. "Okay. Okay. Fuck, I'm driving. Yeonjun, could you please—" 

Yeonjun switches on the radio. "Damn... Good music just doesn't exist anymore." He tsks, flipping through different stations before stopping. "Fuck, they're playing Whitesnake." 

"What... Who..." 

The boy turns to Soobin with a look of disapproval. "Kids..." 

"Hey!" Soobin complains. "I'm twenty!" 

"A child." Yeonjun sucks his teeth. 

"Ugh... How old are you?" 

"Twenty-one." 

Soobin scoffs in disbelief. "That's nothing! You say that like—" 

"I love this song so bad." Yeonjun cranks the music up higher, leaning out the open window carelessly as his strawberry hair dances with the breeze. 

Soobin squawks in protest, telling him to be careful— but Yeonjun pays him no mind as always, basking in the weekend heat as sunshine paints his skin gold. 

_"I find I spend my time waiting on your call... How can I tell you, babe? My back's against the wall."_

His mind is wiped out clean when Yeonjun begins singing. 

_"I need you by my side to tell me it's alright... 'cause I don't think I can take it anymore—"_

The death glare he receives the second he turns the radio down should have Soobin pissing his pants.

All he feels, however, is awe spreading throughout him at this heavenly revelation. 

"It just got to the chorus." 

"...You can sing?" 

A ruthlessly stupefied stare. "That is the dumbest fucking question I've ever been asked. And I've been asked if I'm straight before." 

"Not what I meant to say." Soobin blushes, shaking his head doltishly.  _He's actually gonna make me go insane._ "Y-You sound so... good... like, amazing... fucking... extraordinary... phenomenal." 

Yeonjun lifts a brow at this, laughing a little. "...Thanks?" 

"No, you don't understand. You sound like... an angel. You're an angel." Soobin's face is as soft and stunned with wonder as he feels. "Have you ever thought about singing as a career?" 

The elder laughs lightly, brushing his hair back. It's pretty—  _He_ is. Soobin realizes Yeonjun is blushing. Shit, did _he_ just... _do_ that? 

"It's nothing... I've never done anything with it." 

"So. Like." Soobin gapes at the streets ahead. "Oh, my god, I'm about to pull over." 

"Just for that?!" 

"It's worth it." 

"Dude, don't pull over, please. Just say it. I'm listening." 

The man sees the mall come into view.  Okay, so no pulling over. "Fucking... Fuck." He can't ask him all of it right now, it's too drastic. He'll settle for a placeholder. "Can you sing for me again later?" 

He hears Yeonjun hum, sees him cross his legs gracefully. It's just as attractive with Soobin's clothes on. "Sure, babe. For how much?" 

Soobin feels his skin sizzle as he swallows his saliva. "Shut up... For free." 

"What an idiot..." Yeonjun squints at him. "Make me fried rice later." 

"Deal. I make it good." 

As they get out of the car, Soobin thinks Yeonjun crushing his toes is an accident until... 

"That's for cutting off the song. Perish." 

✧

Whilst journeying the mall, Soobin learns that Yeonjun  _really_ likes glittery things. 

He watches as he buys a pair of black bejeweled heels that dazzle on his dainty feet, costing more than Soobin's life. Says it's _"perfect for stepping on big, dumb boys with."_

And when Soobin tells him he's shorter than a blade of grass, Yeonjun calls him "fuckin' slender man lookin' ass."

They pick up a bunch of nice clothing pieces before Yeonjun decides he's good and goes to have his hair done. 

If anybody knew the bizarre circumstances, they'd assume Soobin feels pushed around and fed up of this whole thing. But that's so wrong. 

He never does anything with his girl, because she never wants to. She never makes time for him, and she never goes places with him. 

She never makes him watch her flaunt a ton of outfits, asking him what makes her look most appealing.

She wouldn't ask him if he's thirsty and she most definitely would not buy him something to drink regardless. 

She doesn't share her ideas or thoughts with him— Soobin wouldn't be surprised if she did not have any at all. 

Akin to the room in her heart that he so helplessly believes she has for him. 

Narissa doesn't even know that Soobin exists. He wonders if he's even something she considers a big part of her life. 

It's awful to think about. That he made such important moves with someone who only makes him feel and think horrible things about himself.

He thought he was in love, but maybe he really is naive. 

A  _fool_ is what Soobin is, and no one has ever bothered to tell him that to his face till now. 

Soobin snaps out of his thoughts when hands clamp down on the arms of the leather chair he's in, caging him. He looks up at Yeonjun. 

God. He's fucking seen God. 

Yeonjun stands up straight, putting his hands in his pockets, and man— Soobin can't function properly. "How do I look?" 

He stares at the boy with parted lips, the need for blinking and breathing now abandoned and forgotten.

Of _course_ he wasn't ready to see him with dark hair if he looked that stunning with  _pink._

"You..." Soobin can't look away from him. "You look perfect." 

It's something that seems to catch Yeonjun off guard, although Soobin is  sure he's heard it plenty before. "Oh... Th-Thanks... I know." 

Soobin grins at that. 

When they're walking out of the gigantic shopping space, Yeonjun happens to cling to Soobin, gripping the material of his shirt tightly in his fist as he sticks himself to his side.

He doesn't know why, and he doesn't ask. He just easily senses the switch in Yeonjun's state of mind, going from upbeat to downbeat. It's okay. 

He should tell him that. Yet, he doesn't know if that's what Yeonjun wants to hear. 

Maybe it's what he needs. 

"It's okay." Soobin says to him quietly. "You're okay." 

"I'm not," Yeonjun's face is distraught, eyes appearing frantic and dark. "Why does this happen to me..." 

Soobin squeezes the elder's shoulder safely, linking their arms together. "Don't think about it. You've got this." 

"They're all just," Yeonjun closes his eyes, allowing Soobin to guide them out. "Watching me. I don't want it." 

He lets the words sink in for his brain to process what that could actually mean. He gets it. 

After Soobin helps Yeonjun into the car and gets behind the wheel, he turns the radio on himself. 

✧

He doesn't call Narissa like he said he would. It isn't even something she would be looking forward to, anyway. It's merely empty air, for the sake of Soobin's heart. 

He's beginning to see how blind he is... Ironically. 

"What did you want to say to me earlier, during the drive?" Yeonjun asks, sipping from a water bottle. "I don't think you spazzed out just for me to sing to you at home." 

_Right._ "Uhh," Soobin downs some of his soda, palms a little clammy. "It's a bit extreme. I'm kinda scared." 

Yeonjun lifts his brows. "Like, in a good way?" 

"Maybe... Yeah." 

"Well, cut the suspense," The elder laughs a little. It worries Soobin how he's eaten about  _two grains_ of the fried rice, but Yeonjun assured him it's delicious, making the younger very flustered. Still, he frets. "Get into it." 

Soobin breathes in deeply, fidgeting with his fingers atop the table. Yeonjun just blinks like a wired doll, awaiting. "How do you feel... about... singing... for my restaurant?" 

A moment of nothing passes before he sees Yeonjun reach up to play with his abundance of silver earrings. 

Soobin finds it delightful that he even has the  honor of breathing the same air as this man. 

"You want me to... perform for your place?" 

"I really do," Soobin expresses. "You have a place to stay, and now I can offer you a job." 

"I think that's neat." Yeonjun bites down on his lip, thinking to himself. "For now." 

Then, Soobin replays what happened not too long ago; The connections he made between Yeonjun's anxiety and his previous job. How would he feel being put on display again? 

"Pause. Rewind." The younger speaks quickly. "You don't have to do it." 

Yeonjun looks him in the face, puzzled. "Why?" 

"If you're uncomfortable up there, that is. I only want you to try it out if you're sure you're okay."

But, Yeonjun smiles genuinely. "It's cool. This isn't the same as the last." 

Soobin feels uncertainty. But it's what Yeonjun says. 

"I'll do it." Yeonjun announces. "I can be your... songbird." 

"If that's what you want to call it." It has Soobin overjoyed that he'll put his talent to use. 

"It is. Now tell me, hun," His new companion rises, leaning over the table towards the younger to softly hold his jaw with one hand, and it's of raw elegance that causes Soobin's heart to palpitate. "How pretty do I look?" 

Soobin's skin grows hot under Yeonjun's strong gaze, and he suddenly feels weak in the knees. "You look  _very_ pretty." 

An appreciative hum. "You think I'll look pretty on the stage? Without all the smoke and the dollar bills?" 

Soobin smiles fondly, and he's  _most_ confident in his answer. Because it's true. "Nothing could make stages more exceptional than you on them." 

An elated glint passes through Yeonjun's eyes with the setting sunlight. He smiles. "I know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah ROFL

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter : [@hystism](https://twitter.com/hystism?s=21) !
> 
> my curiouscat : [hystism](https://curiouscat.qa/hystism) !


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